On My Way Home
by Starla
Summary: Christmas fluffin'


On My Way Home  
Disclaimer: Joss. David. Whatever.   
Distribution: Sure, want, take, have. LMK the addy.   
Summary: Christmas goodness. Fluffy.   
Timeline: This doesn't really fit into any canon. Please ignore that fact completely. I haven't seen the new seasons.   
Feedback: Yes, please :)   
Dedication: To all of ya out there; Merry Christmas. 

Thoughts of exactly how bad an idea this is don't even touch me as I breeze through the doors of his hotel, coming to a stop in the lobby, and smiling brightly as if I belong there. 

"Hi!" I say brightly, to Wesley, who jumps in surprise, sending the glass bauble he was in the midst of hanging shattering to the ground. 

"*Must* you warrior types do that?" he asks me, frustration clear in his voice. "That's the third one of those I've broken today!" 

"Sorry," I say, as sincerely as I can muster, "I've been looking into getting one of those royal announcer dudes, but it's so hard to find good help these days..." 

He rolls his eyes at me, but smiles, "Merry Christmas, Buffy." 

I look around at my surroundings, noting the fact that it looks as if someone exploded some kind of tinsel demon in the middle of the room, and raise an eyebrow. "You guys are trying to drag Angel into the Christmas spirit, huh?" 

"Kicking and screaming," he admits. 

I laugh at the mental image of Cordelia trying to force a Santa hat on to my lover's - I refuse to think of him as my ex - head. "Good luck," I say, "I tried to make him eat an Easter egg once, it was this whole big deal." 

"I can imagine," Wesley said with a grimace, then picked up a gold star and handed it to me. "He's not here, I'm afraid, but you can give me a hand while you wait." 

I grin at him, deciding that he's actually gotten pretty cool since his blueberry scone days back in Sunnydale. "Nice tree." 

"Thank you," he responds, "I had to look all over the city." 

I look down at a decoration I've just picked up, and raise an eyebrow. It's the Count from Sesame Street. He's wearing a Christmas hat. I glance at Wesley, "Cordelia's idea of a joke?" 

He shrugs, and we go back to decorating the tree, lights bouncing off tinsel and miniature decorative presents. "I used to love Christmas," I tell him softly, "My parents always fought, but all my cousins and stuff were around, and I didn't have to think about it." 

"My father was always away," he responds, "Council business. Christmas always felt... freer, without him there." 

Why we are talking about this stuff, as if we're close friends, I have no idea. Wesley's just pretty easy to talk to. 

It's nice. 

"So where's broody?" I ask, glancing up at him, terrified that Wesley's gonna tell me he's out on a date with some Santa-slut or something. 

"Helping Gunn drop off some things to a local community centre," Wes says absently, "'tis the season, and all." 

< I like the lights. > 

I bite my lip, missing my sister slayer with a fierce ache. Maybe I should visit her, while I'm out here, or something. 

"Wes?" I ask softly, reaching out to touch a mirror ball I've just hung on the tree. 

"Hmm?" he responds, fiddling with a piece of tinsel that refuses to sit right. 

"Do you have any idea how Faith's doing?" 

He looks at me, surprised, and then says, a little uncomfortably, "Angel says she's doing well. He... visits her." He watches me nervously, waiting for my response, and I nod. 

"He would." I turn away from him, picking up a cluster of little plastic gold musical instruments, and hanging them one by one on the tree. "We all spent Christmas together, once," I say, not looking at him. "After... the First. I guess... the three of us were closer than anyone knew." I took a breath, remembering. "I miss that." 

Wisely, Wes doesn't respond, just pats me on the shoulder in a rather brotherly fashion, and goes back to decorating the massive tree. 

A few minutes later, a tingle runs down my spine, and I look at Wesley, and say softly, "Why do I feel as if Big Brother is watching me?" 

He stops, too, then looks around himself, then smiles. "Fred?" he calls gently, and a few moments later, and girl with wide eyes and a timid smile emerges from the shadows, gazing at me with curiosity. "Fred, this is Buffy," he tells her, and I could catch the vibes between them even if I was in a coma. 

Her eyes light up, and she stares at me with a wide and friendly smile, "Oh, gosh, it's so good to meet you. I've heard all about you." 

She seems so sweet and earnest that I have to smile at her, and say, "Uh, thanks. You too. Except for the having heard all about you thing. But I'm sure I would have, if I'd heard about...anything here." 

I bite my lip, and look at her, "That made me sound like a moron, didn't it?" 

She shakes her head with wide eyes, and says, "I know *exactly* what you mean." 

I get the feeling that she does, too. It's a world first: someone understands Buffy-babble without having to learn the language first. 

I decide very quickly that I like Fred. 

The door opens behind us, and I feel *that* feeling, that sensation of warm water sliding over my skin, all liquid and perfect. I turn around, and there he is. 

"Hey there, stranger," I say with a wide grin, and he just stands there staring at me with a confused smile. 

"Hi," he says finally, then moves further into the lobby, coming right up close to me. "What...?" 

I shrug, "I missed you." 

He smiles faintly, and I kiss him on the cheek, and wrap my arms around him in a quick hug, which he returns. Thank god. How awkward would it be if he didn't? 

"Merry Christmas," I whisper in his ear, and can't resist the urge to nip lightly at his skin. 

"Y-you too," he bites out, and smiles as he steps away from me. "I'm kind of surprised to see you here." 

"It's a nice place," I tell him mischievously, "but if you were anybody else, I'd accuse you of trying to overcompensate for something." 

I hear a surprised laugh behind us, and look over his shoulder to see a lanky black guy with sparkling eyes. "Hi," I say. 

He nods back, and that's enough. 

I look back into Angel's eyes, and grin, and tug at his hand until he follows me up the stairs, and we're alone. 

Immediately, his lips touch mine, and he's pulling me backwards, into his suite, against his door, and then he's pressed up against me, my back to hard, cool timber. 

"I take it you missed me too," I say happily, letting him kiss my neck, and my shoulders, and running my fingers over his scalp. 

We do this, sometimes; we're not together, any more - not really, simply because being around each other as much as we really want to be is... hard. So no, we're not together. And 99% of the time, we don't even have contact. 

But occasionally, we let ourselves pretend. 

He kisses me again, and it's drowning, and it's flying, and it's every gift I could ever hope to receive, all wrapped up in him. 

I smile softly when he pulls away, and run my hand over his leather-covered shoulder, loving the familiarity between us. Loving that for a little while, at least, he could be my home. 

"I got you a present," I tell him quietly, and he nods, apparently indicating that he's got one for me, too, because he turns, and goes to a chest at the food of his bed, taking out a wrapped package, and then returning to me. 

He slips his hand into mine, saying, "Well, let's just go put them under the tree, then." 

Well, that's an invitation to stay a while if I've ever heard one, and I smile. "Cool." 

It's not like anyone is waiting for me back home; Dawn's at dad's, and we've already discussed the fact that even though I travelled with her to LA, I was planning on spending as little time in that house with that... that *thing* he calls a girlfriend. Don't even get me *started* on her kids. 

I know it's the season; I know I'm supposed to be all good-will-y, but c'mon, how saintly can one person be? 

*^*^* 

Later, I sit sprawled around the lobby with Angel's family, and I feel warm and fuzzy, and contented, as I lay against his chest, and play with the buttons lining his shirt. 

"We should sing some carols," Fred says softly, her voice hushed and excited, as it always seems to be. 

A look of terror passes over the faces of Cordelia, Gunn, and Wesley, and I grin at them, "Probably not a good idea, Fred. I've heard both Angel and Cordelia sing, and it's not pretty." 

"Hey!" Cordy objects, jabbing her thumb in Angel's direction, "I'm not as bad as *him*!" 

"Oh yes," I said, "believe me, some would say you were worse." I grin teasingly at her, and then lifted my voice until it was high and strangled, and sang, "Leeaarning to loooooove yourself is the greatest loooove ooof aaaallll!" 

"You're in for a beating now," Angel says quietly in my ear. 

To which, I, of course, respond rather smugly. "Oh, I think I can take her." 

"Wanna bet, Summers?" Cordy asks me hotly, and I get the feeling she's had too much nog. I lift an eyebrow lazily, and flex my fingers, and she gets to picture pretty much right away. "Oh. Right. Little-Miss-Likes-to-Fight." 

I shrug, "It's in the blood." 

And the heart, and the head, and the bones, and the soul. 

It's just me. 

Eventually, everyone drifts away, to their individual homes or suites or offices, but Angel and I just sit there, his arms around me, nestled snugly together like some sort of movie couple. 

Finally, I giggle. "I'll tell you what's in your present if you tell me what's in yours." 

He laughs, "Not on your life, Summers." 

"Meanie." 

"Whinger." 

"Grinch." 

"Commercialist." 

"Oh! You're going *down* for that one," I say, and turn around to pounce on him, and tickle him, and I have to laugh and cry and shriek, because... 

The simple fact is, I'm home for the holidays. 


End file.
